


it gives me thrills to wind you up

by manusinistra



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: (brief) mentions of homophobia, Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, leader line as student council, mostly platonic chuuves, side chuulip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-01-23 13:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manusinistra/pseuds/manusinistra
Summary: Everyone loves Haseul. It’s incomprehensible to Yves, who just wants her to take one thing seriously for once in her life.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Haseul in a leather jacket + saying she had too much fun as a teenager in Colorado. I've got 2/3 of this written already, so next part should be up soon.

Haseul is late. Again. 

Yves watches the seconds tick by on the wall clock, thinking of all of the productive things she could be doing. Strength-building for track, or polishing her solo for dance. Starting the calculus homework that’s going to take forever. Even working on the scholarship essay that’s due next month – if she finishes a draft soon, she’ll have time to get through two rounds of feedback and revision. 

Yves does a lot of things, and she manages it by scheduling every minute of her day for maximum productivity. This, right now, is prime work time: there’s an hour until school starts, and as other students while away the time with aimless conversation, Yves likes to check a thing off her to-do list. It’s a good start to the day, accomplishing something concrete.

Today, though, she’s so angry that all she can do is glare at inanimate objects. 

The student council board is supposed to be meeting. As president to Yves’ VP, Haseul is supposed to be here, running said meeting. 

She’s not, obviously, though she texted twenty minutes ago to say _be right there_. Yves is still waiting, driven by a perverse compulsion to see exactly how late Haseul will be so she can add it to the note in her phone where she keeps track of everything Haseul does wrong. Yves already has a lot of material to back up “you’re so unprofessional it’s a disgrace to this position,” but it never hurts to add more. 

Haseul strolls in fifteen minutes before the meeting is scheduled to end. Even the way she walks drives Yves crazy – a lazy shuffle step, like she’s too good to lift her feet off the ground. She’s wearing a leather jacket over her usual jeans and t-shirt, which is out of dress code and extra annoying because it’s so warm today that she couldn’t possibly need it. 

It’s all aesthetic, no function. Just like Haseul, who throws her backpack in the seat next to Yves, draping herself over a desk. 

Yves bares her teeth in a vague approximation of a smile.

“So nice of you to show up.” 

“Isn’t it?”

Haseul is texting someone, not even bothering to give Yves her full attention. 

“Do you know where Lip is? Unlike some people, it’s not like her to be late.”

“Oh yeah, Lip’s not coming. She got bronchitis, and she has all the notes from the faculty meeting so we can’t do anything today. Sorry, forgot to tell you.”

“Then why are we here?”

Haseul looks up from her phone, smiling in the way that other people call charismatic. Yves fights down the urge to punch something. 

“I knew you’d be devastated if you missed a chance to yell at me.”

“Bold of you to think you matter to me.”

“Don’t lie, Yves. We both know seeing me is the best part of your day.”

“Only because it means I get to leave and have a blissful 24 hours of peace before dealing with you again.”

Haseul laughs.

“I like that one. Good work.”

And that’s the most obnoxious thing – Haseul means it. She doesn’t take the world seriously enough to commit to anger. She’ll poke at Yves, work her up into a frenzy and then just flip a switch and walk away with a smile.

“God,” Yves says, putting her face in her hands. “Why are you so-”

“So what?”

Haseul’s voice sounds closer, right next to her. Yves lifts her head slowly, frustration mixing with an unnamed thing that prickles at her skin. She wants to face Haseul head-on but it suddenly feels dangerous, like she’s too close to a live wire. 

She shrugs it off. 

“I don’t know. You defy description.”

“Careful, that’s almost a compliment.” 

Haseul takes some of Yves’ hair between her fingers, uses it to tickle Yves’ nose. By the time Yves gets past shock to indignation, Haseul is already up and heading out of the room. 

“You should get moving,” she calls back. “Wouldn’t want to be late for class!”

;;

Out in the hallway, Yves heads to her locker. A few people greet her, polite and distanced, and she nods back at them.

As she pulls out her books, her eyes gravitate to where Haseul is making her way down the hall. She’s the center of activity, like usual, and Yves watches her flit between cliques: scolding a junior boy for something, cracking a joke with one of the exchange students, getting bodychecked by someone on the basketball team. That last one looks like it hurts but Haseul just laughs before giving her teammate a high-five. 

Everyone loves Haseul. It’s incomprehensible to Yves. 

They never really interacted until student council brought them together, and Yves walked into the first meeting excited at the prospect of a female president after a string of asshole dudes. Maybe she and Haseul could be allies, she remembers thinking. 

That lasted all of two minutes, because Haseul’s opening address was: “I ran because someone dared me to and I’m going to use our meeting block to catch up on sleep. I encourage you all to do the same.”

Yves asked around about her then, hoping that introduction was a misguided prank. It wasn’t – Haseul entered the race on the last day possible, and her campaign poster was a blown up, pixilated version of her driver’s license photo with “why not” written in Comic Sans. All of which, Yves has since realized, is exactly Haseul’s MO. Doing things on a whim, as a joke, and somehow having them work out in her favor. 

Haseul stays conscious for most of their meetings these days, but only to derail the conversation. Which leaves Yves to do Haseul’s job, her own, and the work of wrangling discussion back from tangents like “would ice cream taste different on the moon?” 

Yves sighs, watching Haseul impersonate a stupid meme to raucous laughter from her friends. 

Haseul just gets to her – it's like she’s tailor made to tap into every one of Yves’ dislikes. The worst part is that Haseul is actually smart and capable, despite how much effort she puts into not showing it. Sometimes she’ll make an offhanded suggestion that’s brilliant, and she’s in the top quarter academically despite never seeming to do any work. Everything about her screams wasted potential, and for Yves – who works so hard and so meticulously to maximize her own – it’s just. Too much. 

Yves slams her locker closed, breathes in and out. Makes a conscious decision to let it go. 

It works until after lunch, when she has choir with Haseul and all that irritation comes storming back. 

They’re practicing parts for an upcoming concert. Haseul has a solo and her voice is great but it’s clear she hasn’t practiced. She’s reading off sheet music when she should have the lines memorized, and her high note wavers for a second before coming into focus. 

Ms. Lee, the choir director, fixes Haseul with a look. Yves’ heart speeds up; maybe this will be the day someone finally calls Haseul out. 

“I’ll be ready for the show,” Haseul says, full of confidence.

“Why don’t we give you some motivation? Sudden death, for Haseul’s part.”

This is a thing Ms. Lee does sometimes, when a soloist isn’t performing to their full potential. Sudden death means anyone can challenge for the part, and whoever wins in a full class vote gets to claim it. The parts don’t often change – there’s a tacit agreement among choir kids not to go after each other, and anyone who breaks it tends to lose the vote. 

For that reason, Yves is about to let the opportunity pass by. But then Haseul bursts out laughing, cackling at a friend’s whispered joke. Even now, she’s not taking this seriously.

Yves sees red.

“I’ll do it. I challenge.”

Murmurs break out around the room.

“Excellent,” Ms. Lee says. “Yves, Haseul, both of you up front.”

As challenger, Yves goes first. She tried out for this part a month back when they had auditions, practiced until the notes seared into her brain, and they come back to her now, clear and assured. She sings powered by everything she hates about Haseul, and even before she finishes she knows it’s the best she’s performed in a long time. 

She meets Haseul’s eyes as she holds the last note. They’re swirling with something, dark and conflicted, and the change makes Yves feel vindicated. This, finally, is something other than amusement.

Despite her own performance, Yves fully expects to lose. Then Haseul's voice cracks during her own attempt. It happens a few lines in, on a note that’s well within Haseul’s range, and after that the life just drains out of her. 

When Haseul finishes, the room is very quiet. 

“Ok,” Ms. Lee says. “Both of you face the board. It’s time to vote.” 

There’s a show of hands for each of them. Then Ms. Lee announces:

“Yves, it’s yours. Stay for a minute after class so we can talk about the arrangement.”

Yves is shell-shocked – sure, she did better today, but she was prepared for that not to matter. Haseul looks disbelieving too, with a tinge of hurt. Yves almost regrets it but then Haseul’s face closes and she turns to Yves, executing a swirly mock-bow.

“To the challenger go the spoils.”

“Thanks,” Yves says drily, regretting thinking for a second that Haseul could care about something for real. 

;;

“I can’t believe she did that,” says one of Haseul’s friends. It's loud enough Yves can hear from across the hall where she’s packing up for the day. 

“Can’t you?” chimes in another. “Stealing Haseul’s part is exactly the sort of thing that overachieving bitch would do.”

“She won, it’s fine,” comes Haseul’s voice, and it makes Yves tense in a way that the insult didn’t. “At least now I don’t have to bother practicing.”

“But you love singing.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“But, Haseul—”

“She can have it. It’s not like she has friends anyway, just accomplishments. Maybe collecting another one will keep her warm at night.”

Haseul says it matter of fact, like she’s reporting the weather. Somehow that’s worse than if she were angry, and when Yves gets home that night she realizes she packed the wrong books, Haseul’s words still ringing in her ears. 

;;

The next morning the secretary calls out to Yves from the principal’s office. 

“Can you and Haseul stop by before first period? Mr. Hwang wants to talk to you about something.” 

“Of course,” Yves says. “I’ll let her know.”

_Principal wants to see us_ , she texts Haseul. 

The reply takes less than a minute:

_But I want McDonalds._

_Can you please just get here?_

_What’s in it for me?_

“Doing your damn job,” Yves says under her breath. 

_I’ll buy you McDonalds for lunch._

“Awesome,” Haseul says, popping out from a nearby classroom. “I love free food.”

“You were already here?”

“Yeah. I take my sister to music lessons on Wednesdays, so I’m always around early.”

“But,” Yves sputters, thrown off by how normal and human that response is. “Then why did you say that?”

Haseul winks.

“Maybe I wanted to see what you’re willing to do for me.” 

;;

In the principal’s office, the mood is unusually grim. Mr. Hwang is one of those ‘laughter is the best medicine’ authority figures, and often he’ll joke with Haseul while Yves tries not to scoff at the pair of them. Today, though, he looks Haseul then Yves in the eye with a serious expression. 

“There was an incident. Bullying, based on sexual orientation. A sophomore’s locker was vandalized.”

He shows them a picture: “dyke” is spraypainted in black in giant, jagged letters over the the locker's blue. 

“It’s been repainted already. The victim doesn’t want to talk to us about it – just wants to move on, which is of course her right. We’re not going to find the person behind it that way, though.”

“What does this have to do with us?” Haseul says. 

“She said she’d be willing to have a conversation with student representatives.”

“So, what? We’re interrogating her for you?”

Her tone is aggressive, which surprises Yves, as does the string of substantive questions she follows it up with. How does Haseul know that much about privacy rights and local anti-discrimination laws? 

Eventually it becomes clear that Mr. Hwang just wants them to check-in with the girl, make sure that no one is intimidating her into silence. 

“I think it’ll work better coming from peers,” he says. 

“Ok.” Haseul says, leaning back in her chair. Yves is still watching her, trying to figure out where this new side of Haseul came from. “As long as it’s about supporting her.”

“Of course. Yves, how about you?”

Yves snaps back to herself.

“Whatever you need.”

;;

“You’re on board with this, right?” Haseul says later, when they’re alone in the hallway. “Because I know we fight a lot, but I can’t work with someone who doesn’t see bullying queer people as a problem.”

“Of course it’s a problem. Everyone should get to feel safe in school regardless of gender identity and sexual orientation.” 

Haseul snorts dismissively.

“You sound like you’re running for office. This isn’t an abstract concept for me – it matters for real.” 

Yves frowns, not understanding. Aren’t they on the same side with this? For once? 

“It matters to me, too. This is my school.”

Haseul runs a hand through her hair, looks like she’s debating something.

“It might be your school, but it’s my life. I date girls, sometimes.”

“Ok,” Yves says. Then, because it’s clear Haseul’s waiting for something. “Congratulations?”

Haseul laughs, and it’s different from her usual one. Softer, almost inadvertent, as if she surprised herself with it. 

“I’ll take that.”

“I can’t say I understand what it’s like, but I’ll support you in this.” After a pause, Yves adds. “I still don’t like you, though.”

;;

The sophomore’s name is Chuu. They’ve never talked before but Yves has seen her around, and her first thought is “why would anyone want to bring down a girl who radiates brightness like that.” 

Yves and Haseul take her to lunch at McDonalds.

“You promised me food,” Haseul says. “Plus, she might be more comfortable talking off school grounds.”

It’s a good point, and one that hadn’t occurred to Yves. Interpersonal stuff isn’t her strong suit, so she lets Haseul take the lead, going to buy them all burgers and fries as Chuu and Haseul settle into a booth. It’s weird, trusting Haseul to do something well, but Yves watches the two of them as she waits for their order and she can tell whatever Haseul is saying it's sinking in.

Chuu already seems less skittish, and by the time Yves brings the food over she’s making big swooping gestures as she talks.

“Oh no,” Chuu says. “I’ve never had a girlfriend. I post covers and other stuff on YouTube, though, and some of them are pretty gay.’

“I’ll have to check that out,” Haseul says, and Chuu grins at her. 

Chuu only hesitates when they ask about the atmosphere at school, whether she thinks something like this might happen again. Haseul shares a look with Yves.

“I’ve got to ask. Are you sure you don’t have any idea who did this?”

Chuu stays silent. Eyes on the table, hunched in on herself. 

Yves feels bad, moves a hand toward Chuu's but then stops herself because she’s never been good at giving comfort. Haseul nudges her shoulder, nodding to where their hands are almost touching, and it gives Yves the confidence to lay hers over Chuu's. 

Chuu looks up with a start, blushing prettily, eyes wide as they move between Yves' hand and her face. 

“You’re strong enough to get past this," Yves says. "And we won’t do anything if you don’t want us to. But, think about the other students.”

“There’s someone out just starting to figure themselves out,” Haseul adds on. “Seeing something like this, or having it happen to them..." 

“Ok,” Chuu says. “Maybe I know something.”

They take Chuu back to school, dropping her off at the principal’s office, and then Yves is alone with this new, confusingly competent version of Haseul.

Who starts snickering.

“What is it?” Yves says.

“She has the biggest crush on you. It's kind of cute.” 

“Chuu? Really?”

“Are you actually that oblivious? I thought you were pretending not to know to spare her feelings.”

Yves frowns.

“Why would she like me?”

“Don’t tell me you’re weirded out because she’s a girl.”

“No, it’s just. Why would anyone have a crush on me?”

Haseul laughs like it’s a joke, then realizes it isn’t. She stops in her tracks, and Yves gets a few steps further before realizing, turning back around with a questioning look.

“Yves…you have to know that you’re pretty. So many people in school would kill to date you.”

Yves shrugs, suddenly awkward.

She knows that she’s aesthetically pleasing enough – the lines of her body are fluid and graceful in the dance room mirror, and she can tell the difference between watching herself and watching some of the less serious members.

Haseul is talking about something else, though. Real, visceral attraction, which Yves has never understood. 

When people ask who she likes, she filters her answers through public perception. Do girls in general like this person? Would it make sense for Yves to like him? 

She’s never felt attraction personally, in the way of wanting someone enough to be desperate. She’s not sure she’s wanted someone period, but she knows better than to admit that out loud.

The idea that Chuu wants her – it isn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but Yves has no idea what to do with it. It’s moments like this that Yves feels like a crayon sketch of a high school girl. The outlines are close, but the details get hazy, because there are some things you can’t intuit from watching what other people do. 

Yves realizes she’s been silent too long, lost in her thoughts. When she looks up Haseul is scrutinizing her with complete attention, like she’s a riddle Haseul is at the edge of solving. Yves doesn’t think she has secrets to uncover but she’s scared nonetheless, so she reaches for something else to say.

“So, wait. Does that mean you used me to get Chuu to talk?”

Haseul’s smirk returns, and Yves feels the world settle into solid ground.

“What can I say. You’re a good honeypot.”

;;

At the all-school assembly on Friday, Yves stands on stage as Haseul runs through the announcements for the week.

Haseul is in her element, easy and smiling, talking a mile a minute into her microphone. 

Yves feels awkward and stiff next to her. She hates this kind of being in public: dance is ok because she has something to do, but here it’s just stand and smile and she can never make her face look natural because the whole situation isn't. Why would people be staring at you while you stand there?

Haseul grabs Yves' hand as she’s announcing the weekend football game, and Yves' discomfort rockets up.

“Everyone come on out to support the team – we’re undefeated so far! Maybe that’ll even get the school robot out.” Haseul turns to her, swinging her hand playfully. “What do you say, Yves? Come with me tonight?”

Her tone is almost flirtatious, and as Haseul tilts the microphone toward her audible ‘oooh’s drift up from the crowd.

“We’ll see,” Yves says through a strangled smile.

“Boo, you’re no fun." Haseul turns back to the crowd. "Be more fun than Yves, and be at the field tonight 8PM!"

;;

After the assembly, Yves is livid. She makes a break for the bathroom and for some reason Haseul follows her.

“Come on, it was just a joke!”

“I’m not a joke,” Yves says, voice like acid.

“What? No, that’s not-” 

“They laugh with you. They laugh at me.” 

“Maybe it would help if you spoke to people like a human instead of being so stuck up all the time.”

Yves clenches her fists. That's harder than their arguments normally start, and Yves would be able to deal but she feels so exposed right now, raw from standing in front of the whole school for an hour. She loses her grip on her temper.

“Maybe if you weren't so incompetent, I wouldn't have to be! What is it? Are you just too dumb to realize how hard you make everything? I'd get twice as much done if you just disappeared."

Haseul recoils, taking a step back like the words struck her with physical force.

"Wait, I’m sorry," Yves says, already regretting her outburst. "That wasn’t fair. It would’ve been, before, but. You've been different with the Chuu thing.”

Haseul breathes in deep, and when she exhales some of the tension leaves her shoulders.

“Thank you for saying that.”

“I didn’t realize you cared what I think.”

Haseul snorts.

“It’s a weird experience for me too, believe me.”

Haseul is still looking down, refusing to meet Yves' eyes. Yves touches her shoulder, forcing herself past the weirdness of initiating contact, of it serving a goal beyond annoying each other.

“Really, I was wrong. On the whole you're a terrible president, but I respect that you're coming through for this.”

“So why did you say it?”

Yves shrugs.

“I don't know. You just get to me.”

"Yeah, well," Haseul says. "You get to me, too."


	2. II

Haseul never apologized. 

Yves didn’t notice at the time because Haseul was sad and that was too disconcerting to process other things. That night, though, the thought occurs to her as she pointedly does not go to the football game (she wouldn’t have anyway, it’s too much wasted time, but since Haseul asked she puts extra commitment into not going). 

Yves said sorry but Haseul didn’t. 

The imbalance sticks in her mind all weekend, and she’s still mulling it over on the way to school on Monday. 

Does Haseul think she has nothing to apologize for, that she was only speaking the truth? Is Yves really a friendless, emotionless robot? 

Lip is waiting on the stairs outside school, a little pale but otherwise returned to health. While she was out the dance team started a new routine, and they’re meeting so Yves can catch her up. Lip is early as always, clockwork reliable, which is why Yves likes her despite the fact that she smiles at Haseul’s jokes. 

“Are we friends,” Yves says in lieu of hello. Lip’s expression turns long-suffering.

“What did Haseul do?”

“She said I was a robot. Also that I don’t have friends. And then I kind of said I wished she’d disappear.”

“Jesus, I was only out four days.”

“What did you think would happen with the two of us alone.”

“I guess I should be grateful the school is still standing.” Lip shakes her head, looking tired. “But to answer your ridiculous question, of course we’re friends. You gave me a ride home from dance for months before I got my license.”

“Is that how you can tell?”

“I mean, there are other ways?” Yves sulks, no closer to understanding the threshold of friendship. “I guarantee Haseul just wanted a rise out of you, but if you’re worried about it talk to someone new today. Just say something, and then you’ll have another friend.”

“It can’t be that easy.”

“Sure it can.” They head into the building, Yves holding the door open for Lip. “Also, when did you start listening to what Haseul says?”

“It was an eventful four days.”

;;

In the hallway before class, Haseul is surrounded by people. She’s like that always, drawing a crowd to her wherever she goes.

It seems exhausting to Yves, who never really feels lonely despite spending a lot of time alone. But then Haseul catches Yves watching and raises an eyebrow, lips crooked somewhere between smirk and smile. 

Yves wonders what she looks like to Haseul, alone by her locker, passersby leaving a respectful distance. She wonders if that distance reads more as isolation than respect. 

Fine, she thinks. She’ll make a new friend. 

How hard can it be, talking to someone?

;;

Hard, it turns out. So, so hard. 

Maybe it’s that Yves has a reputation for keeping to herself, but everyone she speaks to thinks she has an agenda.

First, the boy next to her in physics breaks out in a sweat when she says “how’s it going?” He seems to think her small talk is an interrogation, and she doesn’t even get to a second question before he’s breaking down and confessing.

“I was driving the car but I didn’t know that they were going to rob that convenience store and certainly not beat that dude up. It all got out of hand and I feel so guilty. I’ll talk, I’ll give names, just please don’t send me to jail.”

Yves blinks at him. After class she walks him to the principal’s office. 

She tries again in calc, asking to borrow a pencil from the girl behind her because surely nothing can go wrong with that.

The girl narrows her eyes.

“Don’t you have one in your bag? What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s broken,” Yves says, which is not true but totally could be.

“I don’t believe you. Are you a pencil hoarder? I bet you wouldn’t even give mine back after class, just add it to your collection.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Why would you ask for a pencil when you already have one?”

The teacher hands out a pop quiz, saying they have 5 minutes to get everything done. Yves spends one of them waiting to see if she’ll get a pencil, but when the girl only clutches her case protectively against her chest Yves gives up and fishes out her own. 

“Pencil thief,” she hears as she writes down her name. 

By the time lunch rolls around Yves is ready for a break from how insane her classmates are, so she goes to the library to regroup.

Chuu is there, at a table tucked in between bookshelves. Yves always eats in the library, and she wonders if this is a new thing for Chuu or if Yves has just never noticed her before. Either way, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up: she wants to make sure Chuu’s ok, and it’s easier to talk to someone in the guise of concerned follow up.

Yves makes her way over.

“Hey,” she says. “Mind if I sit?”

Chuu drops her chopsticks, staring up at Yves. They clatter to the floor, and the echo of it in the quiet library snaps Chuu out of her trance.

“Of course! Just let me clear this off.”

She corrals her stuff onto half the table, knocking several more things to the ground in her hurry. Yves bends down to pick up a set of stickers – butterflies, in a bright rainbow of colors. At least Chuu doesn’t seem the getaway driver type. 

“So,” Yves says once she’s settled. “I wanted to see how you’re doing after last week.”

“I’m good,” Chuu says, and if there’s a flicker to her smile Yves doesn’t know her well enough to be sure it means something.

So she nods, taking a bite of her own food, and tries to think up something else to say. 

Chuu breaks the silence before she manages it.

“You don’t have to stay with me, if you don’t want to. I’m ok, really.”

“I was actually wondering if you’d want to be friends.”

“Friends? Me and you?”

“Yes, me and you.”

“To be clear: just friends?”

Haseul’s comment about Chuu pops into Yves’ mind – she was on to something, given that question and the way Chuu looks everywhere but Yves as she asks it. Yves should find it awkward, probably, but she’s too busy being annoyed by the fact that Haseul was right.

“…yes.”

“Ok, that’s totally cool. Just had to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating this. Anyways, yes, I love making new friends!”

Chuu beams, composure fully recovered. Yves returns her smile, a little unsure. 

“So what do you like to talk about with new friends?”

“Oh, anything! Music, hobbies. Crushes, though we should maybe avoid that one since mine just asked me to be friends and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

That makes Yves laugh, because wow Chuu goes from shy to full throttle fast. Yves relaxes, deciding to embrace this turn of events.

“Or we could find you a new one. Who are your other options?” A terrible thought occurs to her. “If you date Haseul we can’t be friends.”

Chuu presses her lips together, amused.

“I think she has her eye on someone else.”

“What? Who?”

Chuu mimes zipping her lips, and despite Yves’ efforts she reveals nothing more.

;;

The student council meeting that week is a confusing affair, with Haseul bouncing between criminally laid-back and capable leader moving them through the day’s agenda. It’s more the former than the latter, but the flashes of serious Haseul are still enough to unsettle Yves. 

Like when they get to picking the charity for this year’s fundraiser, Haseul has a whole monologue ready.

“I was thinking that – after the locker incident last week – this is our opportunity to make a statement in support of our LGBTQ students. The administration is working on something, but in the meantime a student-led project would go a long way toward reaffirming that this is a school with a positive environment. I’ve talked to a couple local queer youth organizations, and here are some notes.”

She passes around a thoroughly researched packet – double sided, neatly stapled, with full budget breakdowns. Yves stares, poking it to make sure it’s real. She wasn’t sure Haseul even knew how to work the school printers. 

After the meeting, Lip, Haseul and Yves stay an extra fifteen minutes to set things up for next time. In further weirdness, Haseul and Yves are on the same page while Lip is barely present, distracted by something. 

Lip runs out as soon as they finish, making an excuse about needing to get to the pool. 

“That was weird, right?” Haseul says, walking with Yves to the parking lot. 

“Yeah. Swim season doesn’t start for months.”

“Should one of us, I don’t know. Make sure she’s ok?”

“Not yet. Lip shuts down if she feels cornered.”

“Wow, look at you having emotional aptitude.”

“Even a robot has moments, right?”

It comes out transparently bitter, and Haseul flinches. 

“Listen,” Haseul starts, but a clap of thunder cuts her off. 

All at once it’s pouring – suddenly, violently, the bottom dropping out of the clouds. It’s the kind of rain that soaks you to the skin in thirty seconds, and they’re still ten minutes from the parking lot.

“Come on,” Haseul says, shouting to be heard over the rain. “There’s a spot we can wait it out.”

She grabs Yves’ hand and pulls her toward the closest building, into a stretch of space where the wall dips in and the roof overhangs by maybe a foot. It’s not much in the way of shelter, and Yves ends up only half under it, unwilling to crowd into Haseul.

The rain gets harder, hissing as it hits the ground. The drops sting against Yves’ bare arm.

“It’s fine,” Yves says, though she thinks about the water soaking into her books, the notes from all semester she’s probably losing.

“If you don’t get in here I’m going to go stand out in the rain.”

“No, that’s stupid.”

“Yeah, it is. So stop doing it.” 

Haseul’s mouth is set in a stubborn line. Yves sighs and steps closer to the wall. 

Which means, incidentally, closer to Haseul. 

There’s not quite enough space for both of them, especially when Yves is doing her best not to touch Haseul. It backfires: Yves jabs Haseul’s side with her elbow, and when she tries to move back she knocks her knee against the wall in a way that’s definitely going to bruise. 

“Here, try this,” Haseul says. 

She takes Yves’ arm and puts it around her shoulders, wraps her own around Yves’ waist. There’s a second of intense awkwardness before their bodies just sort of figure it out. Haseul slots into the space beneath Yves’ chin, head tucking in against Yves’ chest. 

They’re both out of the rain now, and Haseul feels small in her arms, so much smaller than her presence suggests. Yves wants to say something about it but she can’t - the rain gets harder again, so that looking out from their shelter there’s just a sheet of water stretching from ground to sky. It’s deafening against the roof and the ground and the trees, killing all possibility of speech, and it makes Yves realize how many words she and Haseul exchange, how they’ve never really shared silence before. 

With the rain so loud all Yves has to go on is touch. She can feel Haseul’s breathing, the shock of her warmth against the cooling air. 

It’s a close, intimate sensation, like she and Haseul are alone in their own private piece of space and time. It's the kind of moment Yves thought was reserved for other people. 

The rain stops as suddenly as it started. The clouds clear and the sun beams down, warm on the damp fabric of Yves’ shirt.

Haseul extracts herself from the embrace, and the moment she breaks contact feels bad in a breathtakingly deep way. 

Yves has to remind herself that this is a good thing – that it was strange and uncomfortable having Haseul that close, and that she should be grateful to return to normal. 

;;

On Friday night Yves sits down to write that personal essay for the scholarship program. She’s been thinking about it for weeks without making any real progress, and she’s decided that that ends tonight.

The essay prompt stares up at her: "Pick a quote that reveals something important about you. Then, write 600 words using it to describe who you are and what you value."

Yves looks over the list of quotes she’s assembled, pulled from everything from the Bible to _Fight Club_. She’s started a couple of times with a couple different quotes, but she never seems to get far.

The problem isn’t the quote. It’s the next step: talking about who you are.

Yves thinks about herself in terms of facts you can write down. A 3.95 GPA, a 2:26 personal record in the 800 meters. She keeps a list of things like that, and she tells people it’s for college applications but it’s also so that she doesn’t lose track of herself. She feels realer looking at the neat line of things she does, as opposed to the swirling doubt that takes over when someone asks ‘who are you’ and wants her to talk about intrinsic nature. She has no idea who she is apart from the things she devotes her days to being better at, and maybe that’s a problem but she has no idea how to fix it.

She’s rewriting the same sentence over and over when her phone buzzes. 

It’s Haseul, again trying to get Yves to come to a football game. This time her method of choice is a picture of the seat next to her, where a wrinkled construction paper sign proclaims ‘reserved for Yves.’

_I’m going to do this every game until you come_ , the caption says.

_You don’t have that kind of commitment_ , Yves writes back.

_Try me. I have a lot of commitment when I care._

_And you care about this?_

_Of course, school spirit._

Yves’ phone buzzes two more times in quick succession. The first message says:

_Maybe this would be more fun with you around._

_To annoy_ , the other adds seconds later. 

;;

At lunch the next week, Yves mentions this to Chuu, complaining that Haseul once again kept her from getting something done.

Chuu and Yves kept eating together, after that first day. If they’re not friends yet they’re at least on the way, because Chuu feels comfortable enough to say things like:

“Why do you care so much about what Haseul does?” 

“I don’t. I care that she’s keeping things from working out for me. If I don’t finish that essay, I lose an opportunity. If student council is a joke, it hurts my future chances.”

“Hmm,” Chuu says, in the way Yves is learning means she has thoughts.

“Hmm, what?”

“It’s just, don’t other people do that too?”

“Like who?”

“Like Hyunjin, when she took your spot in the 400 relay despite being a freshman.”

“Well, that was different – she worked hard to earn that spot, and Haseul hasn’t.” Yves pauses. “Wait. How do you even know about that?”

Chuu makes a you-caught-me face. 

“I like watching track meets?”

“The track team doesn’t even like watching track meets. They’re four hours of standing around.”

“Ok, maybe I liked watching you at track meets.”

She says it so plainly, and Yves flashes back to how flustered Chuu was around her when they first met. She seems completely chill now, and Yves wonders if there’s something behind that change. 

“Back to my point,” Chuu says. “Haseul earns it, too. She’s always talking to people, always managing public opinion.”

“But that’s just talking.”

“Talking is work. Could you talk to all the people Haseul does? Get them on your side like she does?”

Yves frowns. 

“I think I liked it better when you were too infatuated to use logic on me.”

;;

Something shifts in the way Yves and Haseul fight.

They still fight, and still often, but Yves catches herself smiling mid-argument, having to remind herself that Haseul gets on her nerves. There’s a newly physical undercurrent to their interactions, too, like that day with the rain broke all sense of personal boundaries. 

Right now, for example, they’re arguing about something stupid in an empty classroom after a board meeting. They're alone because Lip cut out early, and Yves can’t even remember what started this fight but they’re both going hard, Haseul getting into her space so much that Yves backs up and up until she’s against the wall. 

Haseul takes another step; Yves grabs onto her shoulders to push her back. 

Yves distinctly thinks, I should make her move. But the command gets lost between her brain and her limbs, and before long it’s not clear whether she’s pushing Haseul back or holding her in place.

Haseul is breathing hard, and for once there’s no trace of amusement in her expression. Whatever she was saying fades out mid-sentence; her eyes search Yves’, and she’s so close and so still it itches at Yves’ skin. 

“Fuck it,” Haseul says. “You can slap me if you want but this is worth it.”

She kisses Yves, and it takes a second for the sensation to hit – for Yves to go from thinking "huh, she kissed me" to registering Haseul’s lips against hers, Haseul’s hands finding purchase on her hips. 

The moment it does Yves loses herself to how good Haseul feels. 

Maybe this is why she jokes about everything, Yves thinks hazily. She saves all her commitment for kissing. 

“Why do I like this,” Yves gasps when they break for air. “I hate you. Passionately.”

“I’m definitely getting the passionate part.” 

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

Haseul smirks, and Yves has seen that smirk a thousand times but it hits different two inches from her own face. 

“You could make me.”

So Yves does. She kisses Haseul, and. Wow.

Yves has been kissed before, a couple of times. Those kisses happened to her, felt less like something she participated in than watching a scene from a movie. This time it’s different, and she’s overwhelmed by how much she feels everything, from the wet heat of Haseul’s mouth to the frantic pounding of her own heart.

Haseul bites Yves’ lip, and it sends a wave of want crashing through her, so strong that Yves’ knees buckle and she collapses against the wall. Haseul goes for her neck, kissing and biting at every inch of skin like this is her one shot to taste all of Yves. 

It makes Yves come back to herself. 

“Haseul,” she says, and she’s startled by how raspy her voice comes out.

“Hm?”

Haseul is still kissing her neck, and the sound vibrates against her skin. Yves’ eyes roll back into her head; why does that feel good.

“Haseul, stop for a minute.”

Haseul freezes, and there’s a long second where she stays pressed against Yves, mouth unmoving at her neck. Yves can feel her breathing, a little ticklish and a little something else.

Then the situation seems to hit Haseul, too. She scrambles backwards, taking three giant steps away. Her lips are red and swollen, and it’s hard for Yves to look away from them. 

Suddenly, Haseul laughs. It makes Yves angry. 

"What, was that funny to you?"

“No, it’s just. Your neck.”

“What?”

“You’ve got, um.”

She makes a gesture and Yves pulls out her phone, using the camera to inspect her skin. There are bruises all over her neck, bright and obvious.

“What did you do? I can’t go home like this.”

“Do you have concealer?”

“No.”

“Hold on, I’ll get mine. We’re close enough in coloring that it should work.”

Haseul has to get in close to cover the bruises on Yves’ neck. Yves starts off staring past her at the opposite wall, but her eyes gravitate to Haseul. She’s concentrating, biting her lip, and something about this feels more intimate than earlier. Yves has time to think now, to feel each soft tug at her skin as Haseul covers over the marks she’s made. 

“Do you do this a lot?” Yves says to distract herself. “Attack innocent girls’ necks, carry concealer around to hide the evidence?”

“That’s me. Resident lesbian vampire.”

Yves laughs and then cuts herself off, remembering that she’s committed to not finding Haseul funny. 

“I have it because I get bruised a lot in basketball,” Haseul is saying. “And I got tired of people asking questions.”

Yves scans Haseul – she can’t see any bruises. She can see that Haseul has beautiful skin, and her hands itch to touch it, maybe leave some marks of her own. 

When Haseul finishes, she takes a step back but doesn’t leave.

“Why didn’t you slap me?"

“What?”

“When I kissed you. Why did you let me?”

“I don't know.”

“If I did it again.” Haseul looks Yves in the eye. “Would you slap me this time?”

Please do it again, Yves thinks before she can stop herself. She says nothing out loud, though, weighing this strange compulsion to touch Haseul against her desire for life to make sense.

Haseul waits, suspended just outside touching range. After a while, she sighs.

“Ok. I’m sorry I made a move without your consent. I won’t do it again.”

She turns to pack up her things.

“Wait,” Yves says, taking a step toward her. “I…didn’t dislike that.”

“Such kind words.”

Yves rolls her eyes.

“Look, you annoy me. But.” 

Yves can’t bring herself to say anything more. So, she grabs Haseul and pulls her into another kiss, spinning them around so that this time Haseul’s the one pressed against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might grow an extra chapter? Idk we'll see. I'm busy with end-of-semester stuff for the next while, but hopefully can update again next week.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I lied. This is now the next-to-last part instead of the last part. Those of you who have read my stuff before are probably not surprised.

Yves is late getting home.

Her parents are already sitting down to dinner when she comes in, and they greet her with twin expressions of concern. 

“Sorry,” Yves says. “I got stuck in a meeting.”

“Was that Haseul girl making things difficult again?"

Yves is pulling out her chair when her mother says it, and for a second she completely short-circuits. Haseul flashes into her mind, freshly kissed and hair a mess, and Yves forgets everything else. Not just that she should be answering, but also: how to move her arm, what a chair is, the goal behind making the chair be farther away from the table. 

“If she’s that much trouble, we could talk to her parents.”

“No, dad, it’s fine.” Yves scrambles to sit down. “I think we came to an agreement today.”

“That’s good. You work so hard, and it’d be a shame for her to get in the way.”

Yves spends all of dinner trying not to think about Haseul and failing spectacularly. 

Every little thing takes Yves back to that classroom. A cleared throat turns into Haseul gasping against Yves’ lips. A shifting chair becomes Haseul pushing Yves onto a desk, complaining about how she’s too tall to kiss properly. (“It wouldn’t be a problem if you’d grow beyond elf height,” Yves said, but then Haseul’s mouth got too distracting to keep up her smugness.) 

Yves barely eats. Though she likes talking to her parents, tonight she has to dig her nails into her palm to stay present. 

It’s a little scary, how out of control she feels. 

She’s never been this stuck in a moment before. Or on a person – _Haseul, Haseul, Haseul_ repeats in her head in time with her heartbeat, and all she can think about is checking her phone, seeing what Haseul has to say in the wake of this afternoon. 

When she’s excused she takes the stairs to her room three at a time.

Behind her locked door, huddled in bed, she pulls out her phone breathless with expectation. 

Only there’s nothing there. Haseul’s last message is the same as earlier – a link to a site about how birds are robot spies made by the government, which Haseul sent through three different messaging apps just to be annoying. 

Yves restarts her phone to be sure it’s not glitching. There’s still nothing, and Yves frowns down at the screen. She may not have a lot of experience, but doesn’t making out with someone warrant some kind of communication? Especially from a girl who texts her all the time, for no reason? 

That night Yves wakes up every hour to check for a message that never comes. 

;; 

There’s nothing from Haseul the next morning, either. If not for the bruises on her neck – deeper now, painting her skin purple – Yves would think she dreamed the whole thing. 

That feeling gets stronger in choir, where Haseul meets Yves’ eyes as she walks in, smiles politely, and then proceeds to pay attention the entire class. 

As the days go on, the only contact from Haseul is a string of relentlessly professional emails about the upcoming school fundraiser, which she sends to both Yves and Lip. 

Yves blinks at the latest of them. This is becoming too weird for a dream. Maybe kissing Haseul caused an interdimensional wormhole, transporting her to a reality where Haseul is dedicated to things beyond pestering her. 

The last straw comes when Haseul doesn’t even say anything about the weekend’s football game. This one’s a big deal, the last home game before playoffs, or something, and it’s the first time all year that Haseul hasn’t bugged Yves to come. 

Last week Yves would’ve said she wanted exactly this: Haseul leaving her alone, doing her job. But the reality of it feels wrong, and Yves can’t stop wondering if she messed up, why kissing Haseul translates into no more contact ever. 

It's time for drastic measures: she’ll go to the game. That has to make Haseul talk to her.

;;

It’s a Saturday afternoon game, and when Yves gets there the bleachers are already full. She almost goes back to her car faced with the sheer mass of people who care about football, but then her eyes find Haseul in the bleachers' top corner.

Seeing her snaps Yves’ resolve back into place. 

Haseul will talk to her, today. Right now.

Yves starts the climb up, ignoring the whispered “why is she here?” that trails behind her.

Haseul is with friends like usual. Yves recognizes these ones: she’s had class with Vivi, knows Hyunjin from track and Heejin from being so attached to Hyunjin she might as well do track. 

“Haseul,” Heejin is saying as Yves gets close. “Pay attention to my story.”

“I am.”

“No,” Vivi says. “You’re thinking about fighting with Yves. We all recognize that expression.”

Yves clears her throat and the four of them turn to her, expressions ranging from amusement (Vivi) to abject shock (Haseul). 

“Hi,” Yves says. “Where’s my seat?”

“Are you seeing this too?” Hyunjin tugs Heejin’s sleeve. “She isn’t a ghost, right?”

Vivi raises an eyebrow.

“Why would she be a ghost? No one’s dead.”

“Maybe she and Haseul murdered each other through sheer force of will and just haven’t noticed yet.”

Haseul stands abruptly, eyes locked on Yves. 

“Does anyone need something from concessions? I’m going to get a soda.”

“You already have one,” Heejin points out.

“Be back soon!”

Haseul grabs Yves by the wrist and drags her down the stairs, around the back of the bleachers. The game’s about to start so there aren’t many people, only a few latecomers rushing to make it before kickoff. 

“What are you doing here,” Haseul hisses once they’re alone. 

“You stopped texting me.”

“You didn’t text me either!”

Oh, Yves thinks. She could’ve done that, maybe, before coming to a game. Regardless:

“You’re the instigator, between the two of us. I thought you’d have something to say after last time.”

Haseul runs a hand through her hair, looking uncomfortable. 

“Last time I instigated a lot. I was trying to give you space because I thought I might’ve gone too far. The last thing I want is to be predatory, and you’ve never even hinted about being interested in girls.”

“So?”

“Yves, my tongue was in your mouth.”

“I’m aware. I wasn’t objecting.”

“So you’re not freaking out about this?”

“Only about the fact that you’re not talking to me.” 

Haseul has no response, and silence descends as they stare at each other. It gives Yves time to notice that Haseul’s not wearing enough layers for mid-October. The wind picks up and Yves sees her shiver. 

Yves takes off her scarf, wrapping it around Haseul’s neck. She has to get closer to Haseul to do it, and as she tucks the scarf beneath Haseul’s hair she catches the sweet scent of her perfume. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to get this close to me again,” Haseul says softly.

“I never said I want space.” Yves catches her eye. “You’re not bad at kissing.”

Yves finishes with the scarf but no one moves back. The air between them feels charged, like a single spark would set it on fire. 

"Well," Haseul says after a pause. “Do you want to keep kissing me?”

“I do.”

“Do you want more than that?”

Yves furrows her brows.

“Like what?”

“Like coming to football games with me, for instance.”

“But I don’t like football.”

Haseul slumps.

“Ok, that’s fine.” 

All the color is gone from her voice. It’s an out of proportion reaction – Yves doesn’t get the whole school spirit thing, but even Haseul can’t like football that much. Which means something else is going on here.

“Haseul, wait. What are you really asking?”

“Would you want to date me for real?”

Yves can see in hindsight that this is a logical progression but the question shocks her all the same. 

She hasn’t imagined herself with a girl, but then again she’s never been able to picture dating anyone. Whenever she tries the figure beside her is foggy, a smoke-signal human more than flesh and blood. So, the girl part is a surprise, but Yves has no particular attachment to being straight. The thing causing more consternation is that it’s Haseul of all possible girls. 

Yves hates Haseul, or at least is so used to thinking of Haseul as someone she hates that anything else feels weird to contemplate. You’re supposed to like someone before you date them. Yves can admit hatred isn’t quite the right name for the prickly, impossibly strong thing that makes Haseul the constant center of her attention. But, she’s not ready to slap the label “like” on it, either. 

“I don’t know,” Yves finally says. “Would you want to date me?”

Haseul’s smile is sad. 

“It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it – I don’t know what wanting to date someone is supposed to feel like. I’m a robot, remember?”

“I’m sorry about calling you that.”

Yves shrugs, looking at her feet.

“You weren’t wrong.”

“No, I was,” Haseul says, suddenly fierce. “You feel things, even if you don’t know what to do with them. I was wrong to say otherwise.”

A knot loosens in Yves’ chest, and the strength of her reaction makes her stop and think. People say that she’s emotionless all the time, and she doesn’t care except for when Haseul says it. 

It turns out that a lot of things only matter when Haseul does them. So maybe the conclusion to draw is that Haseul matters. 

“What if I did want that. To try dating you.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I am, I just think I’ll be bad at it.”

Haseul grins, and Yves falls into the crinkles around her eyes. 

“That’s ok, you’ll get better. I hear you’re a very conscientious student.”

There’s a load roar from crowd; it makes Yves flinch. Something football-y must have happened, because the cheers keep coming and the band kicks off a brassy celebration.

“You don’t have to stay,” Haseul says.

Yves narrows her eyes. This seems like a trap – she already missed the subtext in football once, and the desire not to do that again outweighs the desire to leave. 

“I could, if you wanted me to?”

“That’s ok. I don’t actually want to torture you. Maybe we could hang out this week, though?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Let me know how the game turns out,” Yves adds, because she’s not quite bold enough to ask Haseul to text her for no reason beyond the fact that she missed it.

“I will.”

Haseul puts a hand on Yves’ shoulder, darts in to press a kiss to her cheek. Yves feels the mark of it all the way home. 

;;

This time, Haseul does text.

She keeps a running tally of how many times the mascot trips over his costume on the sidelines, complete with pictures and diagrams. She also mentions that the team wins in overtime on a penalty call, which leads them into a heated text debate about whether the fact of a win is more important than how it happens. 

Yves stays up late searching for ever more esoteric examples to prove her point, giddy every time her phone lights up.

;; 

The next day, in the hall between classes, Yves catches Haseul watching her. 

Yves raises an eyebrow. Haseul makes an excuse to the boy she was talking with, makes her way over to Yves. 

“Hi,” Haseul says. “That’s it. That’s all I wanted.”

“That was a solid hi. 7/10, at least.”

“Only 7/10?”

“Not enough originality. Definite room for improvement.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You already knew that.”

Haseul shakes her head, but she’s grinning. 

“Yeah, I did.”

;;

Yves still thinks about Haseul all the time. 

She figured that would stop now, since things are settling between them. If anything, though, agreeing to date Haseul has made it worse. 

Yves asks Chuu if that’s normal, being a little obsessed with the person you’re dating. Chuu immediately bursts out laughing.

“Have you never had a crush before?” 

Yves looks at her blankly. Chuu’s face changes, mouth dropping into an “O”. 

“Ok, so you never have. That’s cool.” Chuu laughs again. “Wow, this is not how I pictured you.”

The comment reminds Yves that she’s talking about a girl to a girl who use to like her. Girl talk isn’t Yves’ specialty, but that seems potentially out of line.

“Is this weird for you? I’m sorry, I can talk to someone else.”

Which means talking to no one, most likely, but Yves has made it this far that way so why stop now.

“No, please keep talking. You’re destroying the cool, chic image I had in my head so fast.”

“Hey!”

“It's not a bad thing!” Chuu rushes to say. “This version of you is adorable. Just less my type.”

Yves doesn’t know how to react to that, and her face settles somewhere between a grimace and a pout.

“So no one’s going to like me if I talk to them?”

“Yves, do you even hear yourself.” Chuu reaches for her hand. Yves lets her take it, warily, surprised when the contact feels reassuring instead of awkward. “I would bet a lot that this you is exactly what Haseul wants.”

Yves feels warm, can’t stop a smile. Her thoughts race with Haseul – what is happening to her. 

“Aw.” Chuu pokes at Yves’ face, where her cheeks crease with dimples. “You’re lucky you’re cute, because otherwise I’d be mad that I’m still single and you got a girlfriend days after you considered kissing a girl for the first time.” 

;;

Haseul comes to eat lunch with Chuu and Yves.

She doesn’t tell Yves. She’s just there when Yves gets to the library, already talking with Chuu, and the sight of them together does strange things to Yves’ stomach. Especially once it becomes clear that Haseul and Chuu speak an entire language she doesn’t, queer references and in-jokes that go straight over her head. 

“Why do you care so much about a TV show,” Yves says, after listening to a long discussion about how it’s a crime that _One Day at a Time_ got canceled. 

It’s a legitimate question but they both take it as an attack, and then Yves is on the receiving end of a tag-team takedown about the importance of representation and visibility. 

Yves is thoroughly lost.

“So it’s a gay show?”

Haseul just stares, and Chuu cracks up.

“I forgot you don’t watch TV,” Chuu says. “You poor, ignorant soul.”

“What else are you watching these days,” Haseul asks Chuu, and then they’re off and running again.

Yves sits there, picking at her food and trying to find a way into the conversation. She makes a few attempts but they don’t work: this kind of talking is hard for her and Haseul and Chuu are both so good at it. Words flow between them with no snags or pauses, and Yves gets morose listening to it. 

Maybe they should just date each other, since they're so good at talking.

Chuu leaves with a little of lunch period left, and then Haseul turns her attention to Yves.

“That was fun,” she says. “We should do that more often.”

“Won’t your friends miss you?”

Haseul’s eyebrows go up at the bite in Yves’ voice.

“Do you not want me to spend lunch with you?”

Yves laughs, no humor in it.

“Is that what that was? I said ten words in that conversation, and you spent the whole time chatting Chuu up.”

Haseul looks ready to argue but then she deflates.

“Chuu is easy. You make me nervous, and I don’t know how to talk to you if I’m not making you angry.”

Yves is surprised, at the answer itself and how easily it was given. It hadn’t occurred to her that talking could be hard for Haseul, too, and the admission restores her sense of balance. 

“Maybe we can start over," Yves says. "How’s your day going?”

“I think I screwed up. How about you?”

“Lunch started weird, but it’s getting better.”

;;

Yves is distracted during dance, thinking of Haseul. Her mistakes slide under the radar, though, because Lip is having such a complete meltdown that the teacher holds her late to yell at her. 

“Are you ok?” Yves says afterwards. 

Lip takes a long drag from her water bottle.

“You chose Chuu, huh. As your new friend.”

“Is that a problem?”

Lip starts to say something, but then her jaw clenches and her eyes go hard. Her shoulders are so tense it looks painful.

“Of course not. Everything’s fine, don’t worry about me.”

;;

_Do you like food_ , Haseul texts while Yves is doing homework.

_I do need it to live._

_And you’re not one of those girls who only eat lettuce?_

_You’ve seen me eat three burgers for lunch._

_I knew I liked you for a reason._

Haseul goes on to invite Yves to the park where she plays pickup basketball, asking if she wants to wander around and then get some food. 

_We’ll be done by 5,_ Haseul writes. _But you’re welcome whenever._

Yves goes early, planning to get some work done while Haseul plays.

They’re mid-game when she arrives, and though Yves gets out her math book she finds herself caught up in what’s unfolding on court. It’s a surprise. Yves cares only marginally more about basketball than football – things happen faster, at least – but somehow she’s not bored. 

It’s probably because Haseul’s on court, weaving between guys who tower over her. Yves is a lot of things when she’s with Haseul, but bored has never been one of them. 

Haseul holds her own amid the sea of dudes. She’s playing point guard, which means all the action runs through her. She touches the ball on every possession, getting it away from those in trouble and to someone who’s in the right place to score. 

It makes Yves think about how Haseul is at school, always talking to people and making connections. It’s easier to see here, with the ball acting as a signal, but Yves is beginning to appreciate that Haseul is always a creature of relations. She’s the facilitator, the connecting thread, and though it’s not the flashiest role nothing would work without her.

At one point, Haseul steals the ball, streaks down court so fast Yves thinks that no one can catch her. She’s wrong – a guy built like a linebacker sprints after Haseul, slamming into her as she goes up for a layup. The ball goes in as both of them crash to the ground, and Yves holds her breath at the violence of it.

Haseul bounds right up, bouncing on her toes. The guy takes a long minute to roll into a sitting position, and his friends have to help him up.

Play breaks up after that, and Yves wonders with a flash of pride if it’s because the guys don’t like knowing Haseul is tougher than them.

Haseul waves Yves over, and as she approaches she sees the flush in Haseul’s cheeks and the sweat beading on her forehead. It makes Yves want to kiss her, so she does, tilting Haseul’s chin up and meeting no resistance. 

When the catcalls start, Yves pulls away. 

“Hi,” she says. “I hope that was ok.”

“You can do that anytime you want.”

The night goes exactly as Haseul promised from there: they walk around, leaves crunching under their feet, and then eat pizza and ice cream at the restaurant on the edge of the park. It’s an aimless, meandering evening, and it’s weird for Yves, spending time with a person without a clear purpose. 

Yves has friends, but they hang out in relation to specific needs. There’s the boy she dances with whenever they do partner work, the girl she gets notes from when she has to skip class for a meet. There aren’t people who belong to Yves across the board, though, outside the contexts that give shape to their interactions.

Haseul is already threatening to break that mold. It’s absurdly nice, doing nothing with her, and as they bicker about which ice cream topping is the best Yves is struck by the selfish, extravagant desire to keep Haseul all for herself. 

When the night winds down, Haseul walks Yves to her car. Yves finds herself slowing her steps, trying to stretch the moment as long as possible. 

There’s another kiss, as they say goodbye. This one is softer, less urgent, the kind that promises more to come.


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, buckle up. There's two chapters' worth of stuff in here, but I really wanted to finish so y'all get it all at once. Special thanks to the os gc, who helped me figure out which teen movie cliche I needed, and to bean, who drew a gorgeous version of this yveseul ([go look at it](https://twitter.com/BeanHeartsRV/status/1124544367321079813)). There's a scene toward the end that maybe pushes at the T rating. Nothing explicit, but I guess be warned.

Lip continues to act weird.

There’s nothing as obvious as that day in dance, but every time Yves encounters her she’s twitchy and tense, not-quite-glaring or avoiding looking at Yves entirely. 

Today, she’s going with avoidance. Lip, Yves, and Haseul are working late to prep for the fundraiser, and though they’re all sharing one long table Lip hasn’t acknowledged Yves in hours. 

Haseul is sitting between them, quiet after Lip throttled her attempts at conversation. It’s almost funny, all the role reversals, but Lip’s coldness makes it hard to laugh. 

Yves likes too few people to lose one, and she has no idea what she did or how to fix it.

She sighs, tweaking the blurb for the local paper. 

Haseul nudges her, picking up on her mood. When Yves looks up, Haseul does bizarre things with her face until Yves cracks a smile (no one should be able to go from puffed squirrel cheeks to fake crying that fast). 

Neither of them break eye contact, and eventually the texture of it changes. Haseul leans in, teasing, daring Yves to do something. 

Yves glances past her to Lip, who is still adamantly absorbed in work. 

Haseul grins. She thinks Yves will just sit there. Worse still, she’s smug about it, and if Yves proves her right she’ll only get smugger. 

So, Yves closes the last few inches to steal a kiss.

“What the hell,” Lip says.

When Yves breaks away Lip is staring at them, mouth hanging open in shock. 

Yves blushes all the way down her neck. She’s kissed Haseul in front of people but Lip is different, and Yves wants to hide from the wide, wide eyes that now have no trouble meeting hers. 

“You guys were kissing, right? That actually happened?”

“It did,” Haseul says, not at all embarrassed. “It’s been happening for a while.”

“But aren’t you with Chuu?” 

Lip is looking at Yves, but that can’t be right. Yves points at herself to be sure.

“Yes, you! I see you two together all the time!”

“We’re friends? She’s nice. Well, she’s less nice than you would think looking at her, but I like talking to her anyway.”

Lip is thrown for a second, but then her eyes get hard again.

“So you’re just leading her on? I can’t believe you, Yves, how could you do that.”

“What? No, she’s the first person who knew about me and Haseul. She doesn’t like me – she keeps calling me adorable in a way that sounds like an insult.”

“It’s definitely an insult,” Haseul chips in.

Lip looks between the two of them, emotions flashing across her face too fast to parse. Then, she pulls them into a hug.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” she says into Yves shoulder. “And for me, because I was going to kill both of you if you didn’t stop arguing.”

“We still argue,” Haseul says. “Just have more fun resolving it now.”

“I didn’t need to know that.” 

Haseul laughs, squeezing them all together tighter, and Yves savors having Lip back to normal.

This doesn’t explain why she’s been so strange, though, and as if on command Lip’s phone goes off. Lip makes the face that means she’s about to run off again. 

“Wait,” Yves says. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you soon, but right now I really have to go.”

;;

Word gets around about Haseul-and-Yves.

Girls from the basketball team start high-fiving Yves in the hall, and a guy from dance asks her who tops. She makes sure to stomp on his toes, hard, during rehearsal. 

Then Vivi corners her in the bathroom.

“Haseul is a handful. Good luck, and if you hurt her I’ll kill you.”

Yves tells Haseul about all this, and she gets thoughtful where Yves expects her to laugh.

“Is it ok for you, that people are finding out?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Yves is starting to understand the taxonomy of Haseul’s expressions: what she gets now is half fondness, half exasperation. Yves is confident decoding this one because Haseul uses it on her a lot. 

“Coming out is hard for many people who aren’t you.”

There’s a shadow to Haseul’s voice, and Yves has a flash of intuition. Haseul is careful in such a particular way, almost like she’s been trained to be. Maybe she has been.

“Did you have to hide for someone?” 

Haseul looks startled. Nods slowly, and a puzzle piece locks into place for Yves. All Haseul’s reactions make sense if they carry the weight of someone else’s history, and Yves wonders how else that girl constrains the ways Haseul moves through the world. 

“Is there stuff you didn’t get to do with her, that you want to do?”

“You’re not a rebound, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re way too much work.”

“It’s not that. I don’t have a great grasp on what dating should look like. But if there are things you want, I’ll try to give them to you.” 

Haseul is quiet for a long moment, something shifting behind her eyes. Yves isn’t sure what that means but it’s significant: she either did really well or really badly.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Ritter’s,” Haseul finally says.

Ritter’s is an old diner that serves the best milkshakes in town. It’s also where the whole school hangs out, and going there with someone reads as a declaration: we’re together and we want people to know. 

(Yves only knows because a guy tried to take her once. She agreed because food but then he went on and on about how much it meant to him. She made him explain why and then turned him down, and he threw a fit that remains legendary to this day.)

“We don’t have to go,” Haseul continues, with uncharacteristic shyness. “I know it’s cliché.” 

Yves has no objection to cliché if Haseul cares enough to get hesitant. So, she says:

“How’s Friday? 7?” 

Haseul smiles so big her eyes disappear. 

“I’ll pick you up.”

;;

Yves assumes Haseul will be late, but _I’m here_ appears at 6:59. 

Nerves strike Yves on the way out the door, and though she tells herself that this is nothing new, that they’ve hung out before, her palms are clammy by the time she slides into Haseul’s car.

She has a second to look at Haseul in the fading light. Then, something starts strangling her.

Yves flails at the thing wrapping around her arms and chest, succeeding only in getting herself tangled. She’s out of breath and panicked by the time it stops moving, at which point she realizes it’s an old-school automated seat belt instead of an elaborate booby trap. 

“Your car is trying to kill me!” she says as she wrestles the strap into proper position.

Haseul does her best not to laugh. 

“I meant to warn you.”

“Sure you did.”

“No, really. I was about to but then I saw how great you look and I lost track of everything else.” 

Compliments aren’t a thing they do – at least not like that, straightforward and bold. It magnifies the sense that tonight is different, and Yves’ heart skips in her chest. Even when it’s beating steady again there’s a lingering unsettled feeling, like that was only a warmup for acrobatics to come.  

“You look nice, too.”

Yves says it to keep Haseul’s words from going unanswered. It’s true, though, and as Haseul drives it’s impossible not to look her over.

The leather jacket is back, but this time there’s a pretty dress underneath it, short enough that a flash of thigh sneaks out each time Haseul stretches for a pedal. Her makeup is different from what she wears for school, darker and more dramatic, and altogether it transforms Haseul from a familiar presence into something else. 

Something that has Yves turning away, cheeks burning, when Haseul catches her staring at a stoplight. 

At the door to Ritter’s Haseul hesitates, and Yves wonders if this is new and different for her, too. 

Haseul reaches for the door, drops her hand. Repeats the process a few more times. 

“Still want to do this?”

“Yes. I’m just…nervous.”

Haseul sounds confused by that fact, and Yves appreciates not being the only one surprised by her own feelings. 

It gives her the confidence to take over, slinging her arm around Haseul’s shoulders and steering them into the restaurant. You have to go through the main sitting area to get to the counter where you order, and once they’re inside all eyes turn to them. Yves doesn't care about her reputation but it’s still disconcerting, how hard and how shamelessly they’re being watched. She focuses on the feel of Haseul against her, leans to whisper into Haseul’s ear because if people are watching they might as well get a show.

“Now everyone knows, so you can’t get rid of me.”

Haseul squeezes her waist and then they’re through the gauntlet of stares, up to the counter. It’s easier from there: order food, find a booth in the back, try to keep Haseul from stealing fries. 

They talk as they eat, and it’s less like a competition than usual. Haseul asks questions as if she wants to know the answers, and Yves is relaxed and talkative until the future comes up. 

“What do you want to do?” Haseul says. “Something intense and serious, I bet. Medicine? Politics?”

Yves sets down her milkshake, sweet turning to sour in her stomach. There it goes, the crippling unease that always rises when she tries to imagine a shape for her life.

Haseul assumes what everyone assumes: Yves will do something great with herself. She has potential, people keep telling her, and Yves has learned to hate that word because what if it’s all she ever has. Each mention of potential conjures the shadow of dreams unrealized, and Yves works every day to ward it off but she still isn’t sure that she’s doing enough. 

Her parents say they’ll always support her, but they expect her to choose a profession they can brag about. Something in the boring and serious range, and Yves is good enough at school to pull it off but she doesn’t know if she actually wants that kind of life or if expectation fills in the place where her dreams should be. 

“Maybe,” is all Yves can say.

She wills Haseul to let it go, but apparently you have to be dating for a while before telepathy kicks in because Haseul does the exact opposite. She zeros in on the topic, asking whether it’s politics or medicine, what kind of specialty Yves might pursue. 

Yves’ answers get shorter, eventually meaner. Haseul sighs into her soda, seeing the symptom but not the cause. 

“We don’t have to do this. Let me get the check and we’ll go.”

Haseul lifts a hand to call for the waitress, and Yves thinks about letting her do it if only to escape questioning. Something in her wants to talk, though. If not now, with Haseul, will she ever?

She pulls Haseul’s arm down.

“I want to be here.”

“Then why the monosyllables?”

“I don’t know what I want to do, when I'm older. Thinking about it freaks me out.”

“That’s it?” Haseul laughs, trailing off at Yves’ glare. “Ok, sorry, that’s a real thing! I just never figured you for a freaking out about the future person. You have so many plans. Your planner scares me.”

“I can plan for the present. The future is too big.” Haseul’s face softens, like she’s looking at an especially cute baby animal. “What?” 

“Nothing, just. Thanks for telling me. That can’t have been easy for you, and I appreciate it.”

Yves shrugs.

“It’s less impossible with you than with other people.”

“Then let’s figure out what you should do for a living.”

“Right now?”

“No better time! We’ll start small – what’s one thing you don’t want to do?” 

That question feels just as giant, and Yves’ head swims with the possibilities. Haseul grabs her hand, seeming to realize she’s getting lost.

“Least favorite class right now. Don’t think, just answer. Go.”

“Physics,” Yves says quickly, and Haseul does a goofy dance in her seat, pulling Yves’ hand along with her. 

“There we go! That’s one thing ruled out. You won’t be a physicist.”

“Is that really making progress?”

“Absolutely. You’re eighteen, you don’t have to have everything figured out yet. Next time we’ll cross off something else, and before you know it all that’s left will be your dream job.”

Yves doesn’t think it works like that, but with Haseul beaming at her making a choice does seem a fraction more conceivable. 

;;

After dinner, they get in Haseul’s car. Haseul doesn’t turn it on, which is weird.

“Are we waiting for something?” 

“Where do you want to go?”

Yves figured Haseul would take her home now. They came to Ritter’s, ate food. What else is left?

“Do I have options?”

“You could come to my place, if you want. My parents are out.” Haseul’s eyes go wide. “Not that I expect anything! I don’t know why I said that, you could come over even if they were there.”

Yves might’ve missed the implications, but Haseul’s denial brings them into focus. An empty house means kissing Haseul without interruption. And, potentially, more than that.

Yves hasn’t thought much about the more than that, still getting used to the fact that there’s someone she likes enough to kiss regularly. She’s trying to sort out how she feels about the prospect when her phone saves her from having to answer. 

It’s Chuu, who sends selfies and memes and indecipherable strings of emoji but has never called before. The fact that she is now sets Yves on edge, and she answers with a flash of dread. 

“Hello?”

“I’m ok,” Chuu says, though her voice is shaky. 

“What happened?”

“I’m ok, but. The person who messed with my locker did something else.”

“I’m on my way. Is it ok if I bring Haseul?”

Chuu gives her address, not even teasing Yves about being with Haseul. That more than anything makes Yves worried, and when she hangs up she tells Haseul to hurry.

;;

Chuu meets them outside her house, where floodlights cast a warm golden circle over the porch and lawn. She looks rattled but generally unharmed, and the first thing Haseul does is hug her. Yves does too, a minute later, and she can feel the rapid-fire beat of Chuu’s heart.

“What did they do?” Haseul says.

“It’s easier to show you.”

Chuu pulls up a video on her phone. When it starts playing they see a smaller version of her, maybe 12 or 13, belting a Girls’ Generation song into her hairbrush. Her appearance is kind of a mess: a green beauty mask covers her face, her hair is contorted into a mop of curls, and braces gleam in her bright, wide smile. The overall effect is cheerful swamp monster, and Yves would smile if not for the situation. 

“I take it you didn’t post that,” Yves says.

“It's everywhere on social media, and a bunch of people told me it got sent to them directly.”

“I’m so sorry,” Haseul says. “What can we do?”

“That’s the weird part – I don’t think you need to do anything. Most of the comments are positive, and my YouTube channel has tripled in subscribers since this went up.”

Yves takes the phone, scrolling down to the comment section. “So cute ㅠㅠ,” she reads, and “wtf she’s such a good singer,” and “where can I see more of this girl??” They go on and on like that, a thousand digital strangers charmed by tiny Chuu. 

“So someone tried to embarrass you,” Haseul recaps. “And now you’re going viral for being adorable.”

Chuu shrugs.

“I guess?”

No one knows what to say at that point. Yves was ready to knock someone out for Chuu, and though she’s glad there’s no need excess energy hums through her limbs, eager for some sort of outlet. 

A commotion from next door breaks the silence. A figure rushes outside, door slamming in its wake, and as the person dashes toward them Yves realizes that it’s Lip. That’s why this street looks familiar: Yves has dropped Lip off here dozens of times. 

What a coincidence, that she and Chuu live so close to each other.

“I saw the video,” Lip gasps when she gets to them. “Are you ok?”

“I am,” Chuu says, tone the opposite of welcoming. “Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.”

“Look, I appreciate that you showed up. But it doesn’t make up for how you disappeared on me for no reason. For two entire years, while living next door.”

Lip gets pale.

“Do we have to do this now?”

“What, do you want hide for another year first?”

They’re so focused on each other that Haseul and Yves might as well not be there. Yves isn’t sure what to do – this feels private – but when she looks over Haseul is watching them like a show.

So Yves just stands there, trying not to eavesdrop, wondering what it says about her that this is how her realest date so far ends. 

Haseul’s hand brushes against hers. Yves moves a few inches away, not wanting to crowd her. Only Haseul’s hand follows, one finger hooking around Yves’, and oh. That’s an intentional thing.

Yves turns her hand into Haseul’s. Haseul slots their fingers together. 

It makes Yves feel anchored but also like she could bounce on her toes, which is funny because Yves has never liked her hands. They’re ugly and thick, out of proportion with the rest of her body, and whenever her mom takes her to get her nails done the manicurist tuts at her until she gets self-conscious.

Haseul overpowers all of that, though, and when Yves glances over she gets a soft smile. 

Then the volume goes up in Lip and Chuu’s argument, which makes Yves return to the scene in front of her.

“What do you want me to say?” 

Lip is almost yelling, and Chuu's next words are all the way there:

“Just tell me why! We were best friends, and the next day nothing.”

“I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what? Lip, I’m trying to understand, but what are you talking about?”

“I,” Lip starts, and when she trails off Chuu’s frustration is palpable. 

Chuu gears up for a rant, but she doesn’t get to deliver it because Lip kisses her. 

Yves has never seen girls kiss in real life, and it’s revealing, to say the least.

Lip and Chuu make a pretty pair. Yves hasn't thought about either of them with intent but she gets caught in watching anyway, the push and pull as they settle into a rhythm. Lip’s hand flexes at the back of Chuu’s neck, holding her in place, and. Maybe girls are a thing for Yves beyond just Haseul.

Chuu breaks the kiss, and all the words she didn’t get to say spill out in a rush. 

“What was that what did it mean why would you kiss me after two years of nothing Lip how dare you explain yourself right now.”

Lip moves to kiss her again. Chuu catches her face with a hand. 

“That’s not an answer!” 

“Why not? Can’t kissing you be my answer?”

“No! Say things out loud, with words!”

“Were we this ridiculous,” Haseul whispers to Yves. 

“But why,” Lip whines, ears going red.

“So that I don’t decide to ignore you for the next two years!”

It seems like this could go on for a while, so Yves tugs at Haseul’s hand. The two of them meander towards Haseul’s car, less to actually leave than to give the others space. 

“You don’t seem surprised,” Yves says.

“I didn’t know for sure, but they had vibes. Plus, Lip was so jealous of you and Chuu.”

Yves makes a face.

“Is that what was happening? Anyway, I’m sorry our date got interrupted.”

“It's ok, this was important.”

They’re all the way to the car now, beyond the light from the house, and the cover of darkness gives Yves strength to say: 

“I would’ve come back with you, you know. To see your house.”

“Just to see it?”

Haseul’s face is all innocence. Yves doesn’t believe it for a second. 

“Maybe for other things, too.”

“I can’t imagine what these other things could be.”

Yves shakes her head, because god is Haseul annoying. She’s also gorgeous, and the moonlight makes her unreal, almost elfin, a creature out of a fairy tale. 

Yves corners her against the car, putting a hand on either side of her body.

“Getting any ideas yet?”

“Maybe,” Haseul says, pulling Yves in by her shirt.

Haseul sighs into her mouth, and the kiss feels as urgent and necessary as the first inhale after holding your breath for as long as you can. Yves presses into Haseul, and the way Haseul arches back against the car returns Yves to the idea of more. 

If she hadn’t thought about it before tonight, she has a feeling that now she won’t be able to stop.

A cleared throat makes Yves pull back. 

“I don’t like that this is becoming a trend,” Lip says.

Chuu shushes her. 

“We’re sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s only fair after the show you gave us earlier,” Haseul says.

“Anyway.” Chuu is blushing. “Lip has something to say.”

Lip clears her throat, and the mood turns serious.

“The thing with Chuu’s locker, and this tonight. It was Yisup.”

“Quarterback Yisup?” Yves checks. He's popular and handsome, and even Yves knows who he is despite willfully ignoring all football things.

“Yeah. We used to date, and he was really persistent about getting back together. I told him I like girls because I thought it would get him to back off. But he tried to blackmail me into going out with him, and when that didn’t work he targeted…someone I care about.”

“Can I kill him.” 

Haseul sounds ready to, and Yves reaches for her to make sure the night doesn't end in murder. 

“No, but we can report him,” Chuu says.

Lip frowns. 

“I’ll talk to Mr. Hwang, but I don’t know if that will be enough. The whole team will back Yisup. I’ve been trying to get something concrete on him but it hasn’t worked.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I have him on video painting my locker.”

“What?”

Three pairs of eyes whip to Chuu. She smiles sheepishly.

“I’ve had it the whole time. I just thought Lip might’ve been involved somehow, and I didn't want to get her in trouble.”

“You what,” Lip splutters. “Why would you protect me? I was awful to you.”

“I still cared about you.”

They stare at each other for a while, starry-eyed and full of feeling.

Yves sighs. She’s going to have to deal with this all the time now, isn’t she.

;;

Yisup gets kicked off the football team. Suspended, too. 

After that, things are good. Really, legitimately good in a way that makes the weeks slide by in a rose-tinted blur. 

They raise double the target for the fundraiser, student council meetings are blissfully free of interpersonal drama, and Yves sends in an early decision application, choosing a school that’s got good programs in a bunch of areas over the one with the best pre-med placement. 

Haseul is there, for all of it. Yves gets used to her being around, to having a person who’s hers before anyone else’s.

Then Yves gets a 71 on a calculus test. 

She wasn’t fully prepared for this exam, pulled toward Haseul in addition to the dozen other directions that always split her attention, and as soon as she saw the questions she knew it wouldn’t be good. A 71 is beyond not good, though. It’s the worst grade Yves has gotten since freshman year, and it throws her whole world into crisis.

What if this is the start of her academic decline? What if all her work goes to waste because she screws up now, during the most important year of all?

By the time Haseul finds her she’s in a full-blown panic, convinced that a girlfriend is a distraction she can’t afford. 

They were supposed to sit with Haseul’s friends for lunch today, to introduce Yves to the group. After one look Haseul leads her to the library instead. 

“What happened?”

“I think we need to break up.”

Haseul freezes.

“Why?”

“I got a C- on a math test. I can’t afford that, Haseul. I can’t afford to let my grades slip, and I spend so much time thinking about you when I need to be working.”

“Do you want to break up?”

“I just said that we need to.”

“Not do you think we should. Do you actually want to stop being with me?”

Haseul is watching her intently, but she makes no moves. She doesn’t reach for Yves’ hand, or slide their knees together, or initiate any of the other small, casual, reassuring touches Yves has become accustomed to.

Yves wishes she would. Which answers the question, really. 

“No. I like being with you.”

Haseul exhales, and there’s a momentary crack in her composure. In a few seconds she’s back to intent and even, but still the break makes Yves wonder. Would it affect Haseul that much, if she ended things?

“Then don't get rid of me," Haseul says. "Let me help you.” 

“How?” 

“You have Park, right? He lets you resubmit corrected tests for half the points back. And did you hear if there’s going to be a curve?”

Yves frowns. She’s always done so well that she’s never had to pay attention to ways to get points back. 

“I think he said he’d curve it, yeah. The average was really low.”

“That will help, too. You can still do well on this, trust me.”

;;

They start studying together. 

Yves is skeptical at first – she isn’t sure Haseul knows how to study, let alone knows things that would be helpful to Yves. 

She's wrong, she finds out. Haseul works only as hard as she needs to, which means she knows exactly how to slack off without getting hurt by it. Yves is both horrified and impressed, and she picks up some prioritization strategies that ease her insane workload.

She also notices something. Haseul works only as hard as she needs to, except with choir. There she’s patient and careful and invested, and the contrast is so stark that one day Yves asks her about it.

Haseul shuts down.

“It’s nothing,” she says.

"It doesn't seem like nothing."

Yves wouldn't usually push, but Haseul does that all the time with her and though it's annoying it gets her to talk about things that matter. Haseul talks a lot, but not about herself. Maybe she needs the prompting, too.

There's a silent battle of wills, then Haseul gives in.

“Music is what I’m going to do. Maybe I’ll be a singer, maybe a teacher. But, something like that.”

Yves sees it when the two of them work on a piece for choir together, Yves on piano while Haseul sings melody. Haseul is so beautiful and vibrant that Yves forgets to keep playing, and as Haseul finishes out the song Yves can only stare. 

"Why don't you ever talk about this stuff," Yves says afterward. 

"It's scarier if you admit that you want things for real. What if I actually try, and I'm still not good enough."

She is good enough, it's as clear as anything. Yves resolves to tell Haseul that, over and over again until she knows it's true. 

;;

“I think I really like Haseul,” Yves tells Chuu the next day.

Chuu nods, waiting. Rolls her eyes when nothing else is forthcoming.

“Oh, that’s it. I was expecting new information.”

“How did you know? I didn’t realize until last night.”

“Yves. You’re not the most in tune with your emotions.”

From the way Chuu is trying not to laugh that’s probably an understatement. 

Yves sighs.

“Whatever. You didn’t notice your best friend was in love with you, you don’t get to talk.”

“You can’t keep using that every time.”

“Sure I can. How’s that going, by the way?”

“I’m making her woo me." 

Yves tries to imagine it, and her brain draws a blank.

"Does Lip even know how to woo?" 

Chuu huffs.

"I'll have you know she brought me flowers every day this week.”

;;

Now that Lip is no longer running away from meetings, Yves and Haseul have less time to themselves.

That doesn't stop them from kissing, but it does force them to get creative. 

They kiss in practice rooms and bathroom stalls and the back corner of the library, and once, memorably, in the principal’s office when he got pulled out of a meeting for a phone call. They barely broke apart in time for his return, and he scrutinized their flushed faces before shrugging and getting back to the agenda for the school board meeting.

Even when they’re not kissing Yves is thinking about it. And, increasingly, thinking about more.

She wants to touch Haseul, and they keep getting closer and closer until one day Haseul finishes a test early during Yves’ free period and drags her into the second-floor bathroom no one ever uses. 

There’s intention to Haseul’s kiss, and Yves matches it. 

Haseul might have more experience but dance has taught Yves how to use her body. She understands movement, so though this is new she doesn’t feel lost. It’s like learning a variation on a calculus equation: she knows the method, just has to find this solution.

She plays with angle and pressure and rhythm until she finds just the right way to grind her thigh into Haseul, until there’s desperation to the roll of Haseul’s hips.

“We should stop,” Haseul says, but the way she clutches at Yves suggests otherwise. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

Yves adds extra force, and she can feel the exact moment Haseul’s will breaks.

“Oh god no keep doing that.” 

Her voice is higher and more frantic than Yves has ever heard, and her hands grab for any part of Yves she can reach, scrabbling over shoulders and sides and forearms. 

Yves knows intellectually about sex, but she’s never understood why everyone is so obsessed with it. Now, though, the image of Haseul losing control sets her on fire. It’s the best thing she’s ever seen, and it makes her drunk with her own power, the knowledge that she caused that.

She watches in wonder as tremors take over Haseul’s body, small then cascading.

“Kiss me,” Haseul gasps. “So I don’t scream.”

Haseul's whole body tenses before going boneless, and Yves holds her up as her breathing gradually goes back to normal.

Once she's recovered, Haseul reaches for the button on Yves’ pants.

“Can I?”

Yves desperately wants to say yes, but the next class starts in five minutes and there’s no way they wouldn’t get caught.

“We should get back, but you could come over this weekend.”

;;

Yves’ parents are out of town at a conference, and she’s excitedly nervous about the prospect of being alone with Haseul for real. 

Only Yves doesn’t like it, at first. 

Haseul’s touch is still electric, but it’s like the voltage got turned up too high. Things that normally Yves likes turn heavy with expectation, and by the time they’re in her bed, Haseul’s head hovering over her bare stomach, Yves is so tense all enjoyment is gone. 

“Are you ok,” Haseul says, about to move lower.

Yves clenches her hands in the sheets, thoughts spiraling downwards. She must be broken somehow, because how could she be so into Haseul it felt like she might die if Haseul didn’t touch her and now she can’t even enjoy it. Maybe being with someone just isn’t for her. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Ok, no. Nothing’s wrong with you.”

“But I want to like this and I don’t.”

Haseul sits back, eyes soft and concerned.

“What exactly don’t you like?”

“I just feel too on display. I can’t, like. Feel good.”

Yves is close to tears from admitting that much, and she’s still stuck in her head, wondering why she can’t just be normal. The last thing she expects is for Haseul to flop on top of her, covering as much of her body as possible given Haseul’s smaller frame.

“Um, hi?’”

“Hi,” Haseul says into her chest. “Now you’re less on display.”

Yves bursts out laughing, all her anxiety draining away. 

“You’re so weird.”

“I am,” Haseul agrees. “You are too, and that’s ok. There’s not one right way to do this. We can figure out what works.”

Yves needs to kiss Haseul after she says that, so she tugs at Haseul’s ponytail until she gets the hint.

Haseul was right, it turns out. They do figure it out.

;;

As time goes on, it rubs Yves the wrong way that she took Haseul’s choir solo. Haseul says it’s ok, but she looks wistful during rehearsal. So Yves decides to do something about it. 

“I asked Ms. Lee if you could have the solo back,” she tells Haseul.

“Yves, you didn’t have to do that.”

“She said no.”

Haseul’s smile falters.

“Oh. Well, it’s still sweet that you tried. The concert is only a month from now, anyway.”

“She said.” Yves licks her lips. Why is this the thing that makes her nervous. “She said we could share it, if you agreed.”

Yves looks down, feeling exposed. If this is normal human emotions, they’re overrated. 

When Haseul responds Yves gets confused, because at first it seems unrelated to the topic at hand.

“You know, you really scared me the day you wanted to break up over a C.”

“But you seemed so calm.”

“You were freaking out, so I had to be.” Yves frowns – that doesn’t seem fair. “Hey, no, I'm not telling you this so you can beat yourself up.”

“Then why?”

Haseul takes a deep breath.

“It would’ve hurt then, if you broke up with me. Now I’m really in this, though. I want to keep you, and it’s only going to get worse if you do sweet things like sharing your solo with me. I just want you to know that, in case you get another bad grade.”

“Does that mean you want to sing with me?”

“Yes, you idiot, of course I do.”

;;

Yves starts eating lunch in the cafeteria. With Haseul’s people, but with Lip and Chuu too, their friends melding together into one giant group. 

It means Yves learns some interesting things about Haseul. For instance, in the middle of a story about how they almost got arrested for trespassing, Heejin says:

“And then Haseul was five minutes late, and she’s always early so I knew they must’ve gotten her.”

Yves can’t have heard that right.

“But Haseul’s always late?”

Everyone stares at her.

“What are you talking about,” Vivi says.

“I’m actually very punctual,” Haseul cuts in. "You made such great angry faces when I was late, though, that I would always sit in my car for half an hour before I came to meet you.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying.”

“Yeah,” Haseul says. “But what would you do without me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. Thanks to everyone who read and especially commented - it's been really cool to see this Yves resonate with people, and I enjoyed all the speculation about chuulip. Hope it delivered, and would love to hear thoughts on this part, too. 
> 
> My summer gets kind of crazy from here (I'm moving cross country in two months), which means I might write nothing for a while or 10k next week in procrastination. I've got a couple in progress things I'll be back with eventually, though, and I tend to talk about them on twitter if you want to stay updated.
> 
> twt: [@leaderline97](https://twitter.com/leaderline97)  
> cc: [@leaderline97](https://curiouscat.me/leaderline97)


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